


What to Get the Man who Already has Everything

by OTPmorelike2000truepairings



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Kidnapping, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 11:52:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11713866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPmorelike2000truepairings/pseuds/OTPmorelike2000truepairings
Summary: What do you get the man who has everything he wanted?"So what do you think?""Hmmm?" Sherlock turned to Detective Inspector Lestrade with an air of boredom, covering up the fact that he hadn't been listening to the man, who had been prattling on forever about a case that Sherlock had solved from the moment he first saw the crime scene. Unless Lestrade had learned to read minds- 'I stole your badge. Again.' Sherlock thinks, and Lestrade's lack of response proves he has not gained telepathy after all- he was talking about the case and not what to get Mycroft for his birthday."The case? Do you know who the killer was?" Sherlock is still contemplating what to get Mycroft as he stares at Lestrade. His brother has everything he could possibly want, well, everything except...ORThe one where Sherlock decides to kidnap Detective Inspector Lestrade and gift him to Mycroft for his birthday





	What to Get the Man who Already has Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pri_Chan1410](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pri_Chan1410/gifts).



There was a small complication that always occurred around October 17 of each year. It wasn't in the terms of cases, unfortunately, but rather a much more boring piece of sentiment: Mycroft's birthday. It was standard to get something for someone for their birthday, Sherlock understood this much, but he was never very sure what was customary. His brother did not enjoy the finer things in life the same way Sherlock did: previous years he had been gifted a large intestine, a beautiful microscope, and even an entire corpse one year. Mycroft just didn't appreciate them. He turned his nose up and always left them to Sherlock.

While this was beneficial, it wasn't what Sherlock wanted. Mycroft had always, without fail, purchased for him a wonderful present every year. His violin had been a present from Mycroft, and so had his Belstaff jacket, and his scarf. So it was high time to return the favor. But that brought the same question that always came up: what do you get the man who has everything he wanted?

"So what do you think?"

"Hmmm?" Sherlock turned to Detective Inspector Lestrade with an air of boredom, covering up the fact that he hadn't been listening to the man, who had been prattling on forever about a case that Sherlock had solved from the moment he first saw the crime scene. Unless Lestrade had learned to read minds- 'I stole your badge. Again.' Sherlock thinks, and Lestrade's lack of response proves he has not gained telepathy after all- he was talking about the case and not what to get Mycroft for his birthday.

"The case? Do you know who the killer was?" Sherlock is still contemplating what to get Mycroft as he stares at Lestrade. His brother has everything he could possibly want, well, everything except...

"Sherlock!" Lestrade cuts off his train of thought impatiently.

"Ah, yes. The victim was actually suicidal. The murder of this person was an accident. He was attempting to shoot himself, but he was startled by the victim coming into the alley and calling out to him in the dark as he raised the gun to his own head. Startled, so his fingers were shaky, the trigger was pulled, and the gun was fired. If it wasn't enough that he was already suicidal, he had just killed someone, so he turned the gun and shot himself. I will be back at Baker Street if you need me further."

"Wait-" Lestrade calls, but Sherlock is already striding away. He doesn't have the time nor the patience to deal with the man's incompetence right now, not when he has finally lit upon the perfect idea for a present for Mycroft.

He is mixing up a new chemical compound when John comes home from the clinic. "Hey, Sherlock," John greets. "How was your day? Any interesting cases?"

"Accidental murder of a suicidal victim, wrong place, wrong time, boring," Sherlock tells him. 

"What are you working on?" John questions, coming over to look at the table. 

"Something interesting," Sherlock answers, staring at it raptly. He watches the mixture boil, then pulls it off and stirs it quickly. "It should be perfect. Don't jostle the table, John, and don't disturb this, it's for Mycroft's birthday."

"His birthday? When is his birthday?"

"Two days from now. Tomorrow is a Thursday, I know it's not traditional for you and Lestrade to go out to a pub, but I'll need you to invite him," Sherlock pulls John's phone out of his pocket and hands it to him, saying, "in fact, you should contact him right now."

"What? Why?" 

"No reason."

"Sherlock Holmes, what are you planning? Tell me right now!" John orders in his best Captain Watson voice.

"Nothing," Sherlock denies.

"Sherlock Holmes, you tell me right now or I will destroy this experiment!" 

Sherlock sighs and grabs John's arm, leading him over to their chairs. He pushes John down into his chair, then settles into his own. "Every year I never know what to get Mycroft, because he doesn't appreciate the same things I do. This year I have finally found the perfect solution. He has a crush on Lestrade, Lestrade has a crush on him, so I'm going to gift Lestrade to Mycroft for his birthday. It's brilliant, I can't imagine I didn't think of it before!"

John is gaping at him, he realizes belatedly. Sherlock is fairly certain John is about to tell him how wonderful he is again, so he just waves an arm and says, "Yes, I know I'm brilliant. Now text Lestrade."

John does as he is told, thankfully, and within minutes he has Lestrade's confirmation text. They will be meeting at their usual pub at seven p.m. 

Sherlock doesn't sleep the rest of the night, mind whirling excitedly about how Mycroft will respond to his present. He is still fiddling with the experiment when John makes him breakfast the next morning, though by mid-afternoon he has finished the experiment and has bottled the solution. He then proceeded to pace around for three hours and shot holes in the wall before John got home.

Once John actually got home, Sherlock tosses the clothes he picked out at him, following up by trying to help him out of his clothes and into the new ones so they can leave quicker. John bats his hands away and escapes into the bathroom, slamming the door in Sherlock's face for good measure. In a few minutes he is out again, dressed and ready to go. Sherlock throws his coat at him and shrugs into his Belstaff, checking the pocket for the precious vial once more before hustling out after John.

The two men stride off down the street and hurry into the pub. Lestrade is already there, sitting at the usual table. "John!" Sherlock, what a...pleasant surprise," Lestrade remarks, appearing surprised by Sherlock's presence. Sherlock is already disappearing up to the counter to order the men's favorite drinks. He receives the orders quickly and uncaps the vial, pouring it into the left beer- left for Lestrade. Then he returns to the table, smoothly passing off the beer in his left hand to Lestrade before giving John the other. Lestrade takes the beer, sniffs it for just a moment, and then- stupid, trusting, naive goldfish that he is- he drinks it. Sherlock can hardly contain his joy, it is taking real effort not to dance the 'I just solved a case!' celebratory dance 'round the table, but Lestrade would definitely notice and be suspicious, so he refrains.

It doesn't take long after that until Lestrade's words are starting to slur and he's having trouble holding his head up. He frowns a bit, proclaiming, "I-I fink I migh' be drunk."

"Yes, I think so, too. You should stay with us, I don't want to send you home like this," Sherlock offers.

"Non-no sense. Imma jus' go home. Don't waanna b troub-trouble."

"It's no trouble, really," John says, clapping a hand on Lestrade's arm and giving him the friendly, open doctor smile. 

Lestrade protests a bit more but he does eventually agree to come home with them. Between Sherlock and John they help the man get back to Baker Street and up into Sherlock's own bed, offered up by John because this was his experiment and thus this was his contribution to the man for drugging him. None of Sherlock's protests that it was a simple sedative seemed to matter, so he stopped making them, left the flat, and broke into Lestrade's flat instead. He needs a change of clothes, and he knows exactly the one's he's looking for. In a few moments he is standing in front of the man's closet and has located the pale blue shirt, the black jacket, and the jeans that are just this side of too tight, the same outfit the man wore during the case John titled 'A Study in Pink'. He knows for a fact that Mycroft adores this outfit (the man licked his lips twice while staring at Lestrade in that outfit, and what else could that mean?) so he's certain it's the perfect outfit for Lestrade to wear when he's presented as Mycroft's gift tomorrow. After a quick trip to the bathroom he has Lestrade's hair gel and cologne and feels ready to return to his own flat.

Upon arrival at the flat, Sherlock manages to get Lestrade almost completely stripped and give him a bed bath. Then he fixes his hair and sprays him with cologne. After a moment's consideration, he realizes the man may have a slight hangover due to the sedative, and so he grabs some paracetamol and crushes it, then forces it into the man's mouth.

Now it is time to wrap the present, but be certain not to wrinkle anything or to cause undue pain, because Mycroft would not appreciate the present if the Detective Inspector was in pain. Ever so carefully Sherlock pulls Lestrade's wrists together and cuffs them with his own handcuffs, and then he repeats the process with his ankles. He balls up a scarf of John's and shoves that into Lestrade's mouth, tying it around his head with rope. His fingers check to be sure the Detective Inspector's circulation is not impeded, and then he sits back to admire his hard work. His present is ready for Mycroft.

Sherlock sits up with the Detective Inspector, though sometime in the early morning hours he succumbs to his transport and dozes off.

He is rudely awakened by a loud pounding on the door. He hears John answer it and greet someone lowly, so he decides to venture out. Minute twistings of Lestrade's face harken to the man's imminent awakening, but surely he will be alright for a few minutes while Sherlock goes to see who was at the door.

It is Mycroft. His auburn hair is disheveled, and he looks a bit frantic. It's not a look Sherlock has seen frequently on his brother, and truth be told it frightens him. "What is it, Mycroft?"

"Sergeant Donovan contacted me. Detective Inspector Lestrade did not show up to work this morning, and when she went to his flat to see if he was alright, he wasn't even there. She spoke with a bartender at a pub he frequents and the man says he left there last night. No one knows where he is, and we are all quite concerned. I need your help to find him, Sherlock. I know you normally don't take cases from me, but this one is in your best interest, since Detective Inspector Lestrade lets you onto his crime scenes. I'm pulling CCTV footage from outside the bar, but it's grainy and terrible quality. As soon as I receive it, we will look it over together."

"Don't panic, Mycroft," John consoles, then adds, "Sherlock has something he'd like to tell you."

Sherlock glares at John. "Detective Inspector Lestrade isn't missing, per say," he begins delicately.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"He's back in my bedroom."

Mycroft is off like a shot, moving faster than Sherlock has ever seen him move. He shoves open the door to the bedroom and flies over to the bed. Lestrade is awake now, and the garbled grunting he's making makes it clear he's not very pleased with the situation he has found himself in. "It's okay, Detective Inspector," Mycroft soothes.

Sherlock stares at him in shock. Mycroft is trying to comfort someone?! His feelings for Lestrade clearly run deeper than Sherlock realized.

Mycroft eases the gag out of Lestrade's mouth, and then off his head. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes," Lestrade says. Then he turns to Sherlock. "Would you like to explain why I am handcuffed and lying in your bed, in clothes that I know are not the same as what I was wearing last night?"

"You're a birthday present!" Sherlock proclaims proudly.

Mycroft's face is slowly draining of color. "Sherlock Holmes, tell me you did not kidnap the Detective Inspector for my birthday present!"

"Fine then. I won't tell you."

"Sherlock!"

"What? Every year you always get me these nice presents, and I can never get you anything in return. So this year I got you something you will actually like. I've noticed you find the Detective Inspector handsome, so I kidnapped him so he could be your birthday present."

"You what?" Lestrade cuts in, and Sherlock tenses, bracing for a scolding, but the man is staring at Mycroft instead. "Did he just say you fancy me?"

"Personal feelings aside," Mycroft says, looking to Sherlock, "one should never kidnap their friends for any reason." His hands are working at picking the lock of the handcuffs open. As soon as Lestrade is free, he stretches out his fingers and wrings his wrists.

"You do it all the time!" Sherlock argues.

"That's different!" Mycroft snaps.

Both men miss the fact that Lestrade is staring at Mycroft, and then decides to launch himself at the eldest Holmes brother. Mycroft, who is still staring at Sherlock, falls under the assault, toppling to the bed beneath him. 

"You fancy me?" Lestrade repeats.

"Yes, I do, but that's not the point right now. I'm in the middle of scolding my brother for kidnapping you."

Lestrade cuts off whatever else Mycroft might say with a kiss. "Happy birthday, Mycroft," he whispers when they break apart.

John's hand latches around Sherlock's wrist and tugs him from the bedroom. "Let them have a minute," he says. 

They walk out to the kitchen together, and John begins making breakfast. "Mycroft enjoys pancakes," Sherlock tells him, so John makes that. 

"Your brother is right, you know," John comments off-handedly. "To kidnap a friend like you did, for any reason, is a bit not good."

"But it worked out well," Sherlock argues.

"Still. You should have Lestrade's permission if you want to gift him to someone in the future."

"Boring," mutters Sherlock petulantly, but he files this information away in his mind palace.

There is the sound of a door opening, and Mycroft and Lestrade walk out of the bedroom. Mycroft is grinning blissfully, which Sherlock has never seen before.

"You're welcome to stay for breakfast," John calls.

"Thank you, we will," Lestrade answers for both men. He pulls out a chair at their table and helps Mycroft get settled into it, brushing a kiss across his head as he does so.

"Happy Birthday, Brother," Sherlock says sincerely, and Mycroft grins at him.

"Yes it has been," he answers as John sets the pancakes down.

"Did I finally get you a present you want?" he questions smugly, already knowing the answer.

"Perhaps," is all Mycroft says, though he smiles fondly at Lestrade. "Happy birthday to me," he says as he begins to eat.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a comment left by Pri_Chan1410 on one of my other works, which said, "Mycroft deserves a huge thanks! Maybe his own Lestrade!" which inspired me to gift him his own Lestrade. Literally.


End file.
